Smile for a While
by The Last Founder
Summary: Harry Potter had been a lot of people. Normally the greatest threat to him came from monsters or demons, or men that passed as such. In Life Twenty-Six, however... the greatest threat to him, is from within himself. When reborn as the most dangerous man to ever walk the Earth, Harry must maintain his sanity, and his morals, while being trapped inside the mind of a psychopath...
1. Laughing

**(Author's Note: I'm retouching the chapters of this story, since there were grammar errors, and some parts that could have been said better, and parts that I left in before I had changed the course of the story. After I go back through the chapters, I'll begin work on the new one.**  
**SfaW is seemingly the only one of my stories that my elusive Muse is willing to help me with, and this story kind of got forgotten in my haze of writing Chosen Again.)**

* * *

**"Good morning Jack."** A patronizing voice echoed out in the room, waking me from a sleep deeper than death.

That wasn't too great of an idea, anger and an unholy bloodthirst running through my veins as my eyes opened to view only empty walls of cold longing.

I took a breath then, steeling myself for a view inside my mind, and found a surge of memories and emotions racing towards me.

Judging from just the barest sensations that whipped at me, screaming in laughter and rage, I learned of my new found fate.

I'm a psychopath.

_"That's… a new one."_

This was… twenty-six, from what I could remember, but I couldn't remember too much, well, besides some of my previous lives.

I always remember the last one, and the first few, the others coming along within days until I'm once again a jumbled mess of memories and faces, all bearing bloody marks on my soul.

It was… almost painful, having so many thoughts and memories bombarding my senses, as I came to terms with who I now was, and the fact that no longer would I answer by a name I had grown to know.

_"Goodbye Morris Jones, hello… whoever I am…"_

Normally it came slowly, bit by bit… But this… This was torture, not even knowing enough of who I was supposed to be, only seeing madness and carnage flashing before my eyes as I slowly crawled my way back to control.

The sudden end of it, was what brought me back to the doctor standing at my door, looking at me expectedly with a twitch of her head.

The aged woman didn't seem pleased that I was ignoring her, as my new body shifted on the room's cot, calmly turning to face her, her eyes beady and sharp as she seemed to tear apart who I was in a second.

I don't like her, but before I could say a word, my lips found their own motion and began to speak.

"Hiya Doc', what's up? Lost your marbles yet? Maybe we could look together?" I found myself saying in horror, as what I could only guess was the man I was meant to replace, pushed me aside.

A smile found its way on my face, as the man pushed himself to his feet.

The doctor didn't seem pleased by my smiling face, but that man said that the staff had always hated him, and by extension, now me as well.

_"Might as well maintain the status quo."_ I thought to myself, before I was instantly interrupted._ "Well except for the burning drive within me screaming for me to degrade and murder the status quo. That's a better idea."_

The man in my head gave a feeling that he was only enjoying my mental anguish, and fully agreed with me.

"Jack, I have already told you, your jokes only hold back your recovery." The woman said with a scowl, as she looked at me with disdain. Jack, the man who I had stepped into, only sneered at her. He and I both had the same thought then, as a subversion of stereotype came to life before us.

"_What kind of doctor says jokes are bad for your health?"_

"What happened to laughter being the best medicine Doctor?" I asked her, as I turned my wild gaze to the woman, a grin tearing at my face in pain as Jack felt he was too funny to be denied.

"That obviously wasn't said by a doctor." The doctor… Carnoline, if I remembered correctly, said with no patience at all. "Now, you have group therapy. Time to get moving."

With that, she held the reinforced door open for me, gesturing to the hallway.

The man that used to own this body gave me a nudge then, but I could almost see him out of the corner of my eye, and the man who laughs was angry.

Jack gave a shallow nod then, and seemed to disappear on the spot, leaving me alone in our body.

For now at least.

With the silence now in my mind, Jack's presence still wavering close by, I moved towards the woman.

Her words struck a chord with me, and I learned something very important.

**I'm trapped in an asylum.**

* * *

**Joseph, otherwise known as Jack, Henry Napier.**

He was born on the lower edge of Gotham City, having grown up in the Bowery with only a shell of a mother to raise him.

Raised in a place where the police rarely wandered, and where the screams of the innocent were dulled by the sounds of violence, lust, and savagery.

Napier was doomed to such savagery and madness, and he did not defy fate.

From looking through the memories of the man, I saw that he didn't remember his childhood much, the path likely being too scarring for even him to want to remember.

Something truly troubling, however, was that he remembered more than one… A splitting crossroads that would branch and lead to the man I now was.

In one such origin, he had been raised by an abusive father, beaten to an inch of life daily, never knowing kindness until the man had fallen dead to Jack's own hands, clenched tightly around his father's own pistol, the dark blood staining his lips as he grinned at his mortal deed done.

However, he remembered another, and another…

From a drug addict mother, to a failed comedy career, to a dead wife, to police brutality, to being left for dead on a battlefield, to being scarred forever by a mad man very similar to Jack himself…

How he got to Arkham Asylum was a confusing thing to figure out, as Jack didn't remember that either, and no staff member of Arkham was there when he arrived.

He had just been there one day, sitting alone in a secure cell, no one knowing who he was or why he was even there.

But there he stayed, never accepting the chance to leave or defend his sanity.

He just sat there.

Silent. Nonthreatening.

Smiling.

I couldn't quite make sense out of the entire disaster that was the man's mind, but I felt a sense of impending dread rising within my gut…

I could feel the assimilation between he and I beginning… and I could only imagine what kind of man I'd be at that point…

**I could also feel excitement…**

* * *

**"Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham!"** The cafeteria's television squeaked out, before being silenced by the doctor as she ushered me forward into a circle of other… men, who all looked at her in anger.

They were likely annoyed at her for cancelling their daily dose of television time, likely the only entertainment that you could find in the unholy hell of a place I had landed myself in now.

While I would have once felt a sense of fear at my fellow inmates, this new entity that had taken control of me, only looked at them with a sideward glance.

They were his entertainment.

I found no fear from them, especially the man who was eyeing me up like I was a brand new canvas.

Before I could question that, I was pushed into a cheaply made chair, and forced to meet the eyes of the other maniacs.

Around me sat five different men, all of different mental states and manners, which was obvious enough from their appearances.

With each one, Jack began filling in the details, almost gleefully giving secrets and pasts like a gossiping housewife.

Apparently he loved me being here…

The man to my left, was a wall of muscle made into a man. His eyes were beady and small, almost unused to the lights as he flinched under their harsh gaze.

Jack stated that the man was used to wearing sunglasses, which the staff forbid him to, as they insisted that impaired eyesight would only set back his recovery.

Apparently he went by the criminal name of 'Defenestrator.'

He was renowned for his fighting style, which was just to throw people through windows.

Remarkable.

To his left, was a pale, unremarkable man dressed in plaid.

He was the kind of man that you'd see walking past you in the supermarket, and not bat an eye at, that you wouldn't pay more than a second thought.

If it wasn't for the heavy scars marring the right side of his face, like a scalpel had decided it wanted to try being a bonesaw.

It wasn't a pretty visage, that was to be sure.

This man, was known as the Dollmaker.

He made dolls out of people…

I didn't want to think more on him…

Apparently, he liked my new face.

He said he wanted to make a doll with it.

I was attached to my face, though Jack wasn't too repulsed by the idea.

Unfortunately for him, I'm steering now.

To his left, and directly across from me, was a seemingly sickly man, with almost glowing green eyes that said that he definitely wasn't human.

I had seen Inhumans before, and if this man was a human, I was a freaking archangel.

The stranger looked like he would drop dead any second, but he didn't show a single sign of death, which I was pretty good at noticing by now.

He looked… almost otherworldly, in a dark sense. I noticed what seemed to be fresh dirt beneath his nails, and what I swear was something growing from his scalp…

This was Jason Woodrue, a 'super villain' that had once held the powers of the Earth at his fingertips, until some guy called Atom had defeated him decades ago, and sent him packing to our little abode.

His powers were supposedly gone, but Jack had heard rumors that Woodrue had been seen whispering to the cracks in his cells, almost like he was talking to someone.

He wouldn't stop talking about the "Green" and how it wouldn't let him rot here.

He was definitely dangerous, but since he had been here for almost thirty years, I'm sure he wasn't going anywhere.

To my right, sitting much too closely for my liking, was Frank Russell, a man that had apparently clung onto Jack ever since he had arrived here.

Frank was a young good-looking man, who had gone insane during his tragic childhood, and apparently thought that Jack was his uncle.

That odd familial worship had twisted the man's mind, and made him willing to do anything to please Jack, even murder.

Jack hadn't denied the guy, so now I was stuck with my crazy 'nephew.'

Thankfully, Jack wasn't affectionate with the guy, so I wasn't having to hug some random guy on my first day.

And before I could forget, Charles Bradbury, an insane man of sixty-eight years, who was extremely sure that Benjamin Franklin, (Yes, that Franklin) was haunting him.

Considering my 'special' connection to Death, I'd been able to see spirits in all my lives, no matter my form.

Bradbury was just fucking crazy.

"Now, it's Friday. Who would like to begin today's therapy session?" Doctor Carnoline spoke up, interrupting all of our staring contests as she entered her own gaze for consideration.

I wouldn't grade her more than a four out of ten.

I grinned at her impatience.

Woodrue yawned.

Frank raised his hand eagerly, almost as if he couldn't contain himself.

I almost felt bad. From what Jack told me, the guy was almost thirty, but no older mentally than twelve.

Perhaps Jack let him believe they were related out of sympathy.

He wouldn't tell me.

The doctor sighed then, as I assumed that Frank often went first.

I could see why this amused Jack so much, as her reactions were hysterical.

"Yes… Frank?" She managed to say, as her eyes almost seemed on fire, the pencil within her grasp beginning to bend from her grip.

_"Hey! That's a perfectly innocent pencil!"_

I blinked then, as that bastard once again shoved his ten cents into my mind. I could only hope that the assimilation would stop this, as I couldn't see myself getting used to his constant interruptions.

"Well, I had a dream that Uncle Jack took me to the circus, and we saw a big elephant!" Frank joyfully exclaimed as he clapped his hands. He reminded me a bit of Creevey here, with the way he kept staring at me for confirmation, as if I had to approve everything he did.

I think I actually sighed in sequence with everyone else here, as we all sat in for a long session.

The guards with assault rifles pointed at our heads ensured our peace.

I could have sworn that Doctor Carnoline muttered something about me not being his uncle, but apparently she'd tried many times before to make that point clear.

I had a feeling Frank wouldn't listen even if I said it.

"Anyone else? Please…?" The doctor asked aloud, as she looked at the rest of us for help.

I could almost feel my green hair growing longer as we sat for who knows how long waiting.

Sadly, Jack didn't know why his hair was the color, as the man's memory was shattered worse than all those Time Turners…

I just shrugged, it was a nice change from the usual black.

To all of our surprise, however, the elderly Bradbury slowly raised his hand, as his eyes strongly locked his eyes on hers.

Jack himself was surprised, as it seems that the man barely moved except to eat.

"Yes, Charles?" The doctor asked of him, her brows lifting as she relaxed in surprise, her notepad ready to record what she must have assumed to be a breakthrough.

The man straightened his little glasses, as he opened his mouth to speak, a whisperous cough breaking through.

"Mr. Franklin doesn't like you much."

Most of us went back to being bored, as that wasn't too surprising or interesting.

What was interesting, however, was what happened right after.

Doctor Carnoline shifted into a burning rage, as she stomped over to almost scream in the man's face, which almost made me wonder if she was crazy as well.

She would fit in well here.

"Charles, I've told you before. Benjamin Franklin is de-"

To all of our shock, even the guards, Bradbury began to enter what appeared to be a seizure, his body dropping to the ground as he began to go into what I recognized as cardiac arrest.

Then the doctor's head exploded, as greymatter and gruesome fragments of what once was a skull flew at everyone.

I was sure I had a tooth in my hair.

At the same time, I felt almost a jolt, as I knew that Jack's memories had fully synchronized with mine.

This was…

Within my mind, I began to scream in agony, as it almost felt like I was being attacked, that it was my head that was exploding.

Out loud, however, I just grinned an almost demonic grin, one that seemingly reached from ear to ear.

**I began laughing.**

* * *

**To all of our shared surprise and joy,** old little Bradbury was apparently a telepath.

At least Potter said as much.

A real shame though, was that the security guards had instantly filled him with lead.

_"I was just starting to like that guy too!"_

Despite that, I just couldn't get the image of that bitch's face out of my head.

The split second where anger had bled into fear, as her brains bled everywhere.

I didn't really know who I was anymore, only that I was somewhere in between the funny madman, and that stuck up Potter guy.

I had decided that I kind of liked the name Harold Jack Napier.

Harry Jack sounded just swell in my opinion, and just seemed to roll off the tongue.

Something that I really wanted to roll off my tongue, however, was that new girl they'd hired to replace the frigid bitch that Bradbury had relieved us of.

Seeing her, I decided that the old guy was going to be my new hero, as I got a look at her when she opened my cell to collect me for the latest therapy session.

After the bloodbath of the last therapy session, the Arkham staff had decided we needed to do individual therapy from now on.

The rest of us had argued venomously to continue the group setting, after seeing how much fun we could get up to together, but the stupid Warden had decided that we didn't get a vote.

"Look at me monologuing, when this piece of work is here!" I thought as I laid eyes on her once more.

Her skin was flawlessly pale, her eyes a lively shade of blue, and her blonde hair had almost a golden allure in the dim lights of my cell.

In the part of my mind that I'd labeled 'Potter', I could have sworn that I knew her from somewhere, maybe just her face…

But, what a face it was.

The fact that she was escorted by two guards didn't stop my admiration, as I just smiled in a decent way, as I actually tried to suppress the aspects of me that scarred people mentally.

I wanted to impress her, oddly enough.

"Mr. Napier, it's time for therapy." She said almost like a mouse, though she was obviously trying to sound stern.

Her dinky little glasses made her adorable.

I just had to grin.

**"Of course doctor."**

* * *

**Unknown to many,** far from Gotham's shores, and even farther than many had even gone, lay a fortress buried beneath a valley of death and darkness.

Forgotten by the world, and guarded by those sworn to secrecy and the will of action, housed those that prided themselves on being almost inhuman.

One among them actually was.

A seemingly aging man sat atop an ornate throne, his hands resting together, as he stared off into nothingness, obviously lost in thought.

Most wouldn't be able to even consider what the man may be thinking to be lost, when he was usually aware of any and everything, constantly on guard against threats of any kind.

His gaze only slightly hovered on the young woman approaching him slowly, her head bowed to him as she reached his side.

"Daughter." He acknowledged, as he maintained his stare into nothing, almost as if he was seeing something no other could.

The woman bowed then, as she kneeled before him out of respect. Only after he nodded, did she speak.

"You're worried about him, aren't you father?" She asked of him, her eyes coming to rest on his face with interest.

The man's usual, stone-set face shifted, as something flickered through him.

Perhaps anger, perhaps concern.

He wouldn't tell her of course.

"No… The boy will survive. He has learned all I could teach him… If he has the strength to deny me, he has the strength to do what he will." He spoke with something akin to pride coloring his words, as she could have sworn that she saw a smile grace his lips.

She almost made to interrupt then, but he merely laid a hand upon her head, as he began to stand quickly and sharply, as he instantly became alert and tense.

"Begone Talia, there is still much work to be done." He barked out, as he began a slow stride from the room, heading to a place of study.

Talia just nodded, as she tried to hide the sadness within her from him, and perhaps from herself as well.

She understood of course, as they all did.

It was a known fact, and one drilled into the minds of each and everyone of them from birth.

As he never rested, **never shall the League of Shadows.**


	2. Lights

**(Author's Note: **This chapter is short, but it is one that should have been written, with a bit of a tease at the story's subplot, which many of you are likely aware of anyway. I always envisioned this chapter's events happening, but never actually made a chapter of it, and felt that the jump between chapter 1 and 2 was abrupt. There will likely be another chapter between chapters 1 and 2 (Now 3), and I will be slightly adjusting the other chapters as well. Then, what will be chapter 7 will be written. Thank you for your patience.**)**

* * *

**"So… let me get this straight." **Jack's silky voice spoke out, the two of them facing off in the foggy domain that served as Harry's mind.

"Boy wizard grows up ignorant of who he truly was, suffers and fights against his foes just to try and live a normal life. Has almost everyone that loves him die to try and get him there, only for it all to be pointless… Is that right Potter?" Jack asked with a dark smile, enjoying every moment of grief as Jack pulled each and every painful memory out of Harry's mind.

"You shouldn't be able to be here. We assimilated, you should be gone, just a memory, a stain on my mind..." Harry shot back, the two of them staring off as the pressure around them began to burn with the fire of their wills, the darkness of Death's domain shimmering to existence as the fabric of Harry's reality began to appear between them.

"You've said that… and yet, I'm still here. You're not alone in this devilishly handsome sack of crap." Jack said with that same damn smile of his, coming closer to Harry as he found himself unable to move, as chill spreading through his bones.

"Way I see it Potter, we're both in it deep, so move aside roomy." The pale man said with twisted joy, his hand coming up to pat Harry on the cheek, who only could grit his teeth as a light began to grow through the fog.

"**Seems we're waking up… I just can't wait for breakfast, can you?"**

* * *

"**Psych evaluation number four, dated September fifth, nineteen ninety-seven." **Harleen Quinzel said into the handheld recorder, the light flickering as her words were saved for later review, her eyes fluttering as exhaustion began to set in.

She'd worked harder in her brief time at Arkham than she ever had in her life, and her assigned patient made that no easier.

"Patient, Jack Henry Napier. Beginning session." She said stately before turning to the emerald eyed man, a smile spread across his face as usual as she tried to get him to pay attention.

Yet another session where he'd say nothing conclusive, she thought to herself, figuring that he would once again spin some fractured backstory.

It was almost a waste of time.

"How are you today Jack?" She asked him warmly, watching him closely, and subtly noticing a difference in his posture.

The man simply stretched on the therapy couch, his piercing eyes falling to hers as his grin fell to a lazy smile.

"I'm well enough Doc, as much as I could be expected to be, considering I'm here in sunny ol' paradise after all." He said while raising his arms for example, just as an inmate wailed out in wild screams, cruel insanity plain to hear as it echoed across the island.

"Yes… I can see your point there." Harleen said with a frown, as the screams did tend to put a damper on even the staff's moods. Let it be known that Arkham was not a dream job, yet she had still found herself working there, the allure of helping those trapped by their own minds too tempting to resist.

She had always found sympathy for those so damaged, so… sad, that she had grown up with the goal of helping those poor souls.

And she had found her dream patient, Jack Napier, a man so far gone that most of the staff had simply given up on him.

"Now then, would you like to tell me anything Jack?" She asked him patiently, the same way she always did, hoping that he would talk to her about himself besides the twisted mess of a history that he always gave. "I find talking of one's childhood is a good start, and I would ask that you try and avoid telling of multiple ones."

Jack began to smile wider then, his eyes almost lighting up at the opportunity, before something odd happened…

His smile flickered then, as his face fell to a flat frown, his thoughts likely overwhelming him as a silence stretched onwards.

"I… was an orphan. Growing up with my aunt and uncle, a sad excuse for a family, who didn't even deserve the title. They always insisted I was a freak beyond caring for, beyond love… I grew up hated and alone, and all I knew was hate and spite for years of my life..." He said slowly and sadly, as she swore he almost became a different person as he refused to look at her, the air around them chilling and tragic.

"What happened to your parents Jack? If you don't mind me asking that is." She almost begged him, watching in interest as he flinched at the request.

She didn't expect him to answer, as she expected him to shutter himself once more, but she was happy enough with he had given. It was more than he had given about himself in years.

"A madman killed them, just because they wouldn't help him… He wanted to kill those he deemed weaker than him… My parents fought him three times and lived to tell about it. He was furious, and because of that, he broke into their home and slaughtered them in the dark." Jack said to her in this broken, hollow tone that she swore she would always remember, purely because it broke her so horribly just from hearing hearing him.

She understood now, why he was as he was.

It was common that when someone was hurt so cruelly by another, that they would stoop their level just to get revenge, often becoming worse in comparison.

A madman took Jack's parents, and he obviously became like him in order to get back at him, to feel something.

Harleen surprisingly found herself wanting to comfort the man, his eyes so terribly sad that she could almost feel her heart breaking in two.

"What happened after all of that Jack?"

At that, a small smile began to form on his face, his eyes warming as he turned to her, the cold around them rising to a warm serenity.

"Now then, I can't tell you everything, can I doc? If I tell you all my secrets, you'd get bored."

She returned his smile then.

She liked this Jack a lot more than the one she had met before.

Perhaps she didn't need to transfer out of Arkham.

Perhaps things were looking up.

**She could only hope.**

* * *

**(10th, September, 1997)**

* * *

"**Tell me Potter… what makes you special?" **Jack asked of Harry, the two of them floating within the void as their shared body slept, the two arguing as they often did.

It was inevitable of course, with two conflicting souls trapped within a body, neither willing to step aside for the other to walk free.

"I mean, from what I've seen from your tasty memories, you've been wandering around, taking lives from innocent people. You've stolen so many lives and names, you might as well be a parasite. So answer me this… what gives you the right!" Jack asked him, his tone beginning so cold and smoothly only to erupt into an unholy scream as a great flame began to burn through the darkness.

Harry didn't even flinch.

He had seen and faced demons worse than Jack Napier.

"I never asked for this."

"Oh, I know Harrikins! You just wanted to settle down with that bookworm and grow old, but guess what sport? EVERYONE HAS BAD DAYS!" Jack screamed out in pure rage, the two now face to face as Jack poured out his volatile fury onto the pseudo-immortal.

From being locked away in his own mind, to watching as a foreign entity tried to take over the life that Jack was given, to change his destiny.

Jack was sick and tired of this mental cat and mouse.

He was done, but so was Harry.

"Do you think you're special Jack? You're just a madman in a sea of insanity. I have seen mad kings and titans beyond your understanding… I have seen things you would never understand... I have stood on the verge of death itself, seen the fires of life and love, and seen them extinguished in a heartbeat." Harry muttered silently, his years catching up to him as he remembered all the blood that had been shed. Even the blood that rested on his own hands, blood which shone with the light of innocents who had their own stolen from them.

He knew there would be more, and many more lives would be taken in the pointless assault on his morals.

"You are nothing but another shadow Napier, longing to take form in another's body, to drag them into damnation so you can feel something in the cold husk that you call a soul... I could destroy you where you stand, but I won't, because I'm not a parasite like you claim. I haven't given into the darkness yet, no matter all I have seen and done Jack, and I won't now." Harry said with a small, but brave smile, as he began to walk away from Jack, the void seeming to consume him where he strode.

Jack only watched as he disappeared, and the pale man was alone once more.

The cold began to sink in then.

**He had always been alone.**

* * *

**(Metropolis)**

* * *

"**You know the old saying, don't you?" **An aged voice spoke out to her, a smell of smoke filling her lungs as they stood before a burning home, all its memories and secrets alight in a glorious blaze.

She merely frowned as she made plans for the future, to run once more, and to never stop lest she let them find her.

She had never stopped before, and yet she… she didn't know what was wrong with her.

Call it nostalgia, perhaps, but she felt a longing overcome her.

She had traveled the world, ran so far away that she would have never been found… and yet, she was only coming closer to where she had started.

An odd compulsion to be sure, but the fear she had long felt was almost becoming a burden.

What could go so wrong, if she finally gave in, let the light in once more?

If she let him back in, give one more chance to prove himself?

To give them a chance?

She looked down then, at what precious memory she had held on for so many years, an aged polaroid that she had treasured for so long.

His stupid little face, so innocent and unaware.

He deserved better than what fate had given him.

He deserved better than her, yet she longed to see him once more.

She smiled then, one matching his of long ago, of hope and happiness.

And yet, when she had felt the spark within her, a wave of reality and grief began to set in.

She would not let anyone see her cry, not when she was so close.

She turned to the man she had considered a father for so very long, and let all her fears float away into the nights lonesome breeze.

Lena whispered then, as the long lost light flickered inside her soul.

"**Ghosts never stay in the dark." **


	3. Arkham

**(Author's Note: I had intended this to be the last missing chapter, but there will be another. Also, I finally checked off one of my goals. Fluff god damn it.)**

* * *

**Arkham Asylum, Arkham Island**

* * *

**(17th, September, 1997)**

* * *

**Everett Booth was a man who had tried to be good.**

He had grown up in a horrid side of Gotham that bordered on a horror film, a corner that bred savagery and pain, one which the high society of the city would prefer to pretend didn't exist in their beautiful and sparkling city…

Despite the pain and grief that had plagued him, Everett had grown fast and devoured knowledge like he was starved, eventually gaining allies and favors like he was a criminal on the rise.

He had tried to use his influence and skills to help the poor and needy, those that had been like him, and even started up a foundation to help them…

Until the wealthy and rich decided they didn't want him helping anyone.

In a week, his efforts were labeled fraudulent, his intentions lies… He lost every investor and believer, his name tarnished and stained with grime that hadn't affected him until that day.

Why would a man born of crime dedicate himself to good, they had asked.

Why would Booth, a man whose father had been a cold criminal, try to help the innocent?

He even had the name of a killer.

He had been turned away, so he began to help people in a different way, a… darker way.

He moved to the shadows, gaining a reputation as a man that solved problems, and didn't ask questions… He had began dealing with people that high society would consider killers, just to help people… until he found he didn't want to help people anymore.

One day, Everett found he liked hurting people, but he was no idiot.

Criminals and killers got killed or caught, so he went to the law to get his thrills, working in a legal way to entertain him in a way that appeared benevolent.

He became the Director, appointed warden of Arkham Asylum. He reigned over the patients and led his staff right around all of his malicious deeds, all of their eyes blind.

They were completely blind to his operations, and he couldn't have been more happy with how his life as King of Arkham was going… until of course things had to get complicated.

His day had begun well, his coffee brewed just right and his television had been tuned into a good new episode of King of the Hill, but of course he was interrupted just as it got good.

His assistant, Ava… Eva… Something, barged in with a worried look on her face as she trembled in place, a file hanging limply from her grasp as her eyes bolted around in fear.

Odd, but he didn't hire her for her composure.

"Excuse me Director Booth, the new patient has arrived."

Ah… the Bastard of Blackgate.

Everett had gotten a call from Warden Morgan who had been begging and yelling about how the sick puppy was too awful for Blackgate, insisting the man was insane.

So Everett had said they'd take him, in exchange for Morgan owing him a favor, one he intended on claiming very soon.

The man had begrudgingly agreed, and now Arkham had a new crazy fuck to handle, and Everett had another pawn.

Life was good.

"Remind me Eva." Everett asked her, his cigar now resting to his size, the cinder burning out as his eyes lit up. "Who's the new patient?"

Ava shivered then, her mind trying not to linger on the man shackled in the lobby, his dark file burning her fingers at mere contact.

**"Victor Zsasz, sir."**

* * *

**"_There's someone new Harrikins." _**Jack whispered away in their mind, Harry's eyes trailing along a novel about Gotham's history, the immortal trying so very hard to ignore Jack's barbs and annoyances.

"There's always someone new Jack." Harry whispered under his breath, keeping reference of how many of the Wayne family kept disappearing in Gotham's history.

They kept popping up all over the book, and all did wonderful or terrible things, only to vanish or die under mysterious circumstances.

The latest deaths, Thomas and Martha seemed the most normal by comparison, but the family was incredibly interesting.

A family that could actually trace its history to the founding of their home city, and being partly responsible for it.

He only wished the Potters had such an illuminating history. Instead, they had hair conditioner…

"_But this one's interesting. Serial, Serial Killer."_ Jack answered back, something akin to awe and mockery in his tone as he tried to direct Harry's gaze towards the rear of the cafeteria.

Harry refused to direct his gaze anywhere Jack wanted to.

"Serial, serial killer? That's over redundant." Harry scoffed out, thinking how ridiculous it was, to imply a person was twice off of something just because they had a habit.

"_One-hundred and twelve Harry. A regular Vladdy. His name is Zsasz."_

Harry just shook his head with a little smirk, his eyes rolling as he said the obvious.

"Why should I care about some killer?" Harry asked out loud, thinking it ridiculous that Jack held so much wariness. Harry wasn't a slouch in combat, even if his Magic hadn't carried over into this life, and Jack knew enough as well.

They could handle some madman with a knife.

Then Harry froze, a cold voice forcing its way into his ear.

**"Because he can hear you."**

* * *

**(From the desk of Dr. Johnathan Crane, 20th, September 1997)**

**Audio Log for Zsasz, #1**

* * *

**"Interview with Victor Zsasz, residing Doctor Crane."** The renowned doctor said to the recorder before them, the table firm and strong enough to hold Zsasz in place, a measure needed considering his extreme aggression.

"The date is September twentieth, nineteen-ninety seven. Beginning interview." Crane said softly to the microphone before turning his gaze forward.

Victor Zsasz was not a gentle looking man, being tall and rough looking did nightmares for one's image, and fate had not been kind to Zsasz.

As a result of his madness, the man had began carving tally marks into his own flesh, a means of keeping track of his kills.

Many would flinch at such barbarity, but Crane was famous for taking difficult patients and turning them into productive members of society.

Zsasz would be no different.

"How are you today Victor?" Crane addressed his patient, who only stared back at him with apathy and anger unseen by the eyes of many.

Zsasz regarded Crane as no more than another mark to make, but Crane knew as much.

Zsasz was not the first to threaten Crane's life, nor to dream of such a thing. He was more than used to it in his line of work, and had even survived many attempts thus far.

"Aside from being held prisoner from my work doctor, I have been lovely." Zsasz said with a small smile, his tone low and silky, his persona similar to a snake in the way he carried himself and spoke so softly.

Zsasz was not one to be underestimated, nor to be trusted.

Crane was not an idiot, far from it.

"You are not a prisoner Victor, you chose to be here. You chose to kill all those innocents, and you chose to be here with me. I am your choice Victor." Crane said with a smile, his eyes lighting up with a cold sense of joy as Zsasz leaned back from the man, almost seeming to come to an understanding with him.

They had reached an impasse.

"Tell me doctor, what do you hope to learn from me being here? Do you want to know why I did it all? What happened to me to drive me here? To know whether my father beat me, or whether I had some tragic accident?" Zsasz answered with a cold, lifeless tone, his eyes growing cold and empty. Not much remained of Zsasz's humanity, and it was akin in a sense to Crane's. They understood each other now.

"Not any of that dear Victor, I just have one question for you Victor, then you may return to your cell until I have need of you." Crane said to him, his cold smile growing even further on him, the lights began to flicker overhead as Zsasz felt something overcome the space around them.

"What do you want you creep?" Zsasz asked of him, the irony lost in that he was a disturbed man, asking what was wanted of him by a freak that may have surpassed even him.

**"Simple Victor… What, do you fear?"**

* * *

**(24th, September 1997)**

* * *

**"How are you Jack?"** Harleen asked of him, the two relaxing within her office as the strains of the asylum seemed to melt away until only they remained.

Harleen wouldn't admit it, even under torture, but she had began to care for the man.

She wouldn't say she loved him or anything crazy, but he was her friend at the very least.

They rarely discussed his issues now, more of their pasts, their interests.

Harleen spoke of her past with painting and the piano, Jack spoke of an interest with sports and exploring.

Oddly enough, even though Jack remembered very little, Jack seemed to brighten extremely when he spoke of his past.

He had once been a part of a soccer team, even advancing to the position of captain, only to find himself losing his joy for it.

She felt sympathy for him, especially when she learned he had been banned from his school's team by a biased school official. He obviously had loved it, and she felt saddened that he had lost one of his few loves.

He spoke fondly of his school though, having been to a boarding school where he had made friends… and lost them.

He had been plagued with tragedy after tragedy, until he had found himself alone and cold.

She didn't know how old he was, and he didn't either, but he had spent years alone and she didn't know how to fix his pain.

But she could try.

"I'm alright doctor, just been thinking lately. Mostly about this place. It's changed a lot in my time here." Jack explained to her softly, his eyes closed as he reclined on her sofa, the air between them warm and comfortable even though he radiated cold and a sense of loss.

"There's more though, isn't there Jack?" She asked him, feeling this knot of sorrow flowing off of him so much that she could also feel his pain.

He nodded then, and she realized how very strange Jack had been in the time she had been treating him.

He shifted so often, as if he were two different people in a single body. Some days he'd be cold and abrasive, rude and crude. Loud and with anger on a trigger, ready to explode at any given moment.

Others, he'd be sophisticated and calm, polite and happy, but then he'd fall. He would begin slipping into this tragic sense of brooding, mourning over a past he would only feel when he became like this.

"I… I lost someone very important to me on this day, years ago." He said softly, his eyes glossing over as he spoke, his mind obviously somewhere else than with her as he seemed to let himself slip.

"It was a woman, wasn't it Jack?" She asked him, his grief clear to see as one she had seen years ago, her own father having worn it after her mother's death. He had that same look on his face every day, no matter how much he had tried to hide it around her, she had always seen through it as she did now.

"I loved her, so very much and for so very long… I fought for her, killed for her, and we finally ran away together…" Jack muttered out, so quietly and so softly that she barely heard him, but she knew he couldn't say it louder. She knew it would hurt too much.

"What happened Jack? If you don't mind me asking."

His face lost all emotion then, falling into this blank, emotionless husk that she had seen a few times before.

"We ran away together… so very far, and for so very long. We thought no one would ever find us… but they did. They took her from me, and left me for dead." He muttered out, the pain almost confusing the man before her. How he managed for so long was beyond her. How no one had noticed amazed her.

"They should have killed me."

"You lived for a reason Jack." She tried to impress upon him, trying to push him into realizing that he had the potential to be greater, to realize his potential.

"Was that reason to spill blood? To take what isn't mine doctor? I can't even die right, so how can I live?" He asked her in a way that chilled her bones, his piercing emerald orbs burning through her eyes and cutting deep into her soul.

She didn't know what to say, so they sat in silence for a time.

"I don't want to be that guy anymore Harleen… This avatar of Death." He said to her with a pained grimace, she not even being aware of how true his grief was, for he truly meant that.

She wouldn't know however, but she felt his pain nonetheless.

"Tell me why."

"I've lost too much, and taken even more. Nothing is mine anymore, and all I have left is bloody memories and a hole inside me." He whispered to her, his eyes flying from her slowly, but his hand drifting towards hers subconsciously.

"Every time I care about someone, either they die, or they leave me behind... Honestly, a part of me is glad they do. I'm poison Harley, and I'm sick of losing everything I love." He said to her with a deep breath, his eyes closing as he felt all he had held back flow out of him in a wave.

He didn't expect an identical wave to flow back at him, his soul pulsing as he felt a force greater than himself caressing him, along with her warm hand.

Harleen leaned closer to him, and he finally noticed the blue of her eyes.

They were so familiar, yet he had never seen that exact shade.

He became lost, yet… he had never felt so free.

"That just means you're worth loving Jack."

**"Please don't call me that."**

* * *

**(28th, September 1997)**

* * *

**"Lights out Zsasz!"** The latest Arkham guard said with a grunt, banging the tip of his baton against the bars of the freak's cell.

George O'Hare was the guard's name, and he had been a recent hire from the GCPD, having shifted careers after Commissioner Loeb had refused to step up defenses for Blackgate, especially after a few of the Falcone goons had gone free in a week.

It infuriated O'Hare, and he had requested a transfer.

After the madness that had occurred at Blackgate, O'Hare had accepted a position at Arkham, figuring that a hospital would be an easy gig.

Of course he had to face a bit of difficulty, having the Freak of the F-Wing here, Victor Zsasz, as he was familiar with sicko.

He had been one of the arresting officers after all, having been the one to slap the cuffs on the bastard himself.

Now, he was here guarding the fuck.

Fate worked in odd ways, but he figured it wanted to punish him as Zsasz refused to leave his fragile desk, despite the time.

"Lights out Zsasz!" O'Hare called out for a second time, his rifle being pulled free as Zsasz refused to even look at him, his hands continuing to fold a sheet of paper into what look like origami.

"You were friends with Ramirez and Hamilton, correct O'Hare?" Zsasz asked of him so calmly, but all O'Hare felt was rage. The two officers had been close friends of his, and both had been brutally taken down in the time it took to capture Zsasz.

He had to tell the men's wives what had happened, and his heart had felt the loss of the men he had considered his brothers.

And this sick fuck tried to make a joke out of their deaths…

He came closer then, pointing his rifle at Zsasz's head, his breaths sharp and heavy.

"Don't you dare say their names you bastard…" O'Hare growled out in a rough bark, all but ready to pull the trigger and end the horrible monster that had taken so many lives.

He'd be doing good, ending such a beast before he could take even more lives of the innocent.

"Seventy-nine, and eighty. I will always remember them officer." Zsasz said in that same emotionless way, the one that made O'Hare's anger spike, and his bloodlust rage and burn like the flames of Zsasz's home. He had lit the place up in an attempt to kill the officers and himself.

O'Hare had personally pulled them both out of the building.

"That's it you sick fuck!" O'Hare screamed out as he pulled the trigger, time seeming to come to a slow as Zsasz seemed to move at an inhuman speed.

Faster than O'Hare could even process, Zsasz had jumped back from the bullets, his folded sheet flying forward from his hand.

Right at him.

In a second, the sheet had sliced clean through O'Hare's head, ending his revenge before it had even been started.

The officer's body fell limp to the ground, his blood pouring across the filthy tiles as Zsasz bent forward, grabbing the man's keys and the paper back up.

With a quick slash of the sheet on his arm, and the keys in hand, Zsasz unlocked his cell and proceeded to unlock each he came across.

Arkham would regret their actions, and they would give so very much to him.

So many marks, so much time.

Victor Zsasz was walking on sunshine, and he had nothing holding him back.

Except one little man with green hair.

Jack Napier, what a silly man he was.

**Who did that clown think he was?**

* * *

**(The day of Zsasz's arrival)**

* * *

**"Because he can hear you."**

Those were the words Victor Zsasz said to Harry, the man turning to face the newcomer.

Zsasz had a sharp face, and even sharper psyche, as the many scars on him stood out like waves in the ocean.

However, Harry had seen much scarier men and monsters than the one Zsasz acted as.

"So? If I didn't want you to hear me, I wouldn't be talking about you here." Harry said with a scoff, staring down the man before, not a single ounce of fear in his heart. This man looked fierce and wild, but he had faced much worse and much more vile than the poser before him.

When one faced the literal incarnation of evil, a man with scars posed a very small threat.

"You are either brave, or very foolish." Zsasz said with a sense of perhaps awe in his voice, his eyes growing sharp then. "Who are you?"

Harry just smiled then, a bit of Jack's influence flowing through his veins then as his smirk grew to a frightening level.

"_This punk ain't shit on Sauron, ain't he?" _

Quieting the sarcastic being in his mind, Harry just notched his head at the man, before finding what he was looking for.

"I'm Jack Napier, but you won't live long enough to know more about me. People in Arkham don't tend to like someone that tries to be intimidating." Harry said with a warm tone as he patted Zsasz on the shoulder, a feat few men could say they did and survived.

Then, he did the impossible.

He turned his back on Victor Zsasz, and walked away.

Zsasz merely looked at in surprise, and let him go with just a whisper.

**"Oh the mark I'd get from you…"**


	4. Make the Man

**Life 26: Smile for a ****While**

* * *

**"Breakfast! Up and at them!"** A droning voice bellowed out from the Asylum's intercom system, awakening it's mad patients, and signalling in another day in this hellhole.

I shook myself awake as I leaned up on my cell's cot, my eyes adjusting to the bleak lighting that filled this damned place… only to be shocked beyond reason.

I had been in this life for over a month, and for the first time, my mind was silent.

No maniacal laughter, no calls for blood and mayhem.

Just silence.

I was alone in here, and wasn't that a relief?

Jack was gone, silent and transparent, and all that remained was me, in full control.

With nothing holding me back, I stretched as I left my cell, heading off to the Asylum's cafeteria, already seeing that the day was going to get more interesting.

Garfield Lynns, the newest freak to join the Arkham circus of insanity, was already trying to bribe the guards for matches. Walter Jones, a patient that admired and deified authority, was already at odds with him, spouting about how it was illegal for 'Officers' to take bribes.

I just watched the two get into their daily brawl, as unlike Jack, I wasn't really interested in anything in this place. I was actually focused on something entirely different, a salvation of sorts.

Jack was perfectly content to stay in this hellhole forever, but me? I wasn't staying here, and Jack will either have to grin and bare leaving, or get out of my head.

**And I had the perfect idea.**

* * *

**"Doctor Quinzel, how are you today?"** I asked the straight laced blonde as we relaxed in her office for my daily psych evaluation. I knew that I wasn't anything like Jack, so I figured why try to act like him?

The doctor almost froze then, as she looked intently at me, almost as if in shock.

"You've never called me Doctor before Jack, why the sudden change?" She asked, her pen twirling between her fingers in surprise. That was a really cool trick.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep up the act all day, so I figured, why not embrace the insanity that everyone saw in Jack Napier?

A little more madness would work swimmingly here.

**"Please Doctor, call me Harry."**

* * *

**(From the desk of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, documented 1997)**

**Patient Name:** Joseph Napier

**Evaluating Provider:** Dr. Harleen Quinzel

**Arkham Registry History:** Mr. Napier has no documented registry date in Arkham's archives. It is unknown when he was admitted, or for what reason.

**Prior Assessment:** Previously, it appeared that Mr. Napier was an unredeemable psychopath with moments of clarity, only cooperating with Asylum staff for his own amusement. His documented behavior parallels that of a cat playing with mice, leading to his previous provider declaring him a lost cause. I see differently.

**Recent Assessment:** Incredibly enough, Mr. Napier has seemed to develop a new personality, a humble man named Harry. While disbelieving at first, after talking for several hours with him, I believe that Mr. Napier has truly developed a new persona, yet… I do not believe this is a bad thing. Whereas our jobs are typically to restore our patients' sanities and return them to society, I believe Mr. Napier would actually prosper if 'Harry' were to be the dominant personality, rather than Jack.

**Psychiatric Diagnosis:** Insanity, Slight Psychosis, Malicious Tendencies, and apparently, Dissociative Identity Disorder.

**Course of Treatment:** Mr. Napier has been treated with various different medical trials, all seemingly to no use. However, Mr. Napier's recent accounts draw that into question, as he claims that Jack, who he regards as a separate entity, has been secretly disposing of his medication. Perhaps with this new personality in control, Mr. Napier will actually consent with his treatment.

**Notes and Concerns:** I believe that if the personality of Harry is able to become Mr. Napier's primary personality, that he may well be on the way to recovery. **No further concerns.**

* * *

**(31st, October, 1997)**

* * *

**"Harry, is something bothering you?"** Harleen asked her patient, who seemed more morose than he usually was. Ever since her prescribed medical plan had been enacted, the entire staff had seen vast improvement in Napier's behavior, which was an accomplishment in itself. There was even rumors that she was being considered for the position of Head Physician.

For once in her life, things were going wonderfully, yet her favorite patient, seemed so sad.

"Sorry Doctor, I've never really enjoyed this time of year… Too many bad memories, you understand?" Harry said to her, his eyes briefly meeting hers, his emerald hair swishing as he moved. His hair had once been prim and short, yet he had asked for permission to grow it out. Now, he had a head of rich green locks, the strands standing on edge.

Harleen just nodded and began to take notes once more, or at least pretended to.

She'd actually resumed her college hobby of drawing, and she had created sketch after sketch of a certain wild haired man, though she would never admit as much of course.

She had actually found the young man on her mind more and more as the months passed, and found herself almost excited each morning as she came into work, but she knew she couldn't let him get to her.

She was a professional after all.

"Would you like to discuss it Harry? It usually helps to get things like this off your chest." Harleen suggested, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder, his body tensing at the touch.

She figured it was a painful memory of his.

Harry took a breath then, then met eyes with her once again, his form steadying as he began to tell what was likely a long story.

**"Well, it all started with my parents being murdered on Halloween Night…"**

* * *

**"Uncle Jack, I can't believe you're leaving!"** Frank Russell, my insane wannabe nephew of sorts, whined as I stood in the foyer of the Asylum, a grey suit sitting on my frame, my hair slicked back in a lazy pompadour.

I admit, Frank was annoying when I first met him, but the man was basically a child, and I had plenty of experience with them. After a few months however, I even started caring for the man, almost like an actual nephew.

However, Frank wasn't the reason I was here, standing as a free man.

I was being discharged, freed from this hell hole.

Things were actually working out pretty well for me, as the medication they had me on held back most of Jack's influence, and I was left in control of our shared body.

With my mind cool and collected, it was a simple matter of getting myself discharged and declared officially reformed, as without Jack fucking with me, I was.

However, as usual when I make a plan, things went off course, but I should have been used to it by now.

The Doctor they assigned to me, Harleen Quinzel, she was something else. Kind and caring, yet firm and funny. Honestly, I felt a pull to her, almost as if my entire mind was pushing me towards her.

I hadn't felt like this in way too long, and yet… It felt good, like… way too good.

Regardless, in an hour's time, I was a free man once more.

For my astounding recovery and behavior, I was approved for discharge within a year, and was given a release agreement.

I was signed up for outpatient care, meaning I could explore and enjoy Gotham all that I liked, as long as I met with Dr. Quinzel once a week and found myself a place to live.

Even better, with a bit of convincing, I was being paid a stipend until I could find work, and was even given a list of contacts I could consult in order to find a job.

_"God, these people are so simple…"_

Filing that all away for later, I finished signing the last of my release forms, and looked to the person standing closest to me, a touch of sadness on her.

Harleen Quinzel was a special one, that was to be sure, and I swear she was almost sad to see me go.

Placing aside the forms, Harleen held her hand out to me, and I shook it gratefully.

"Good luck Harry, it's been wonderful." She said to me, a warm smile actually gracing her face for one of the few times I had known her, and it was truly a sight for sane eyes.

"I'll see you next week Harley." I said with a smile, hauling the Arkham dufflebag they'd given me over my shoulder, making my way to the shuttle bus to Gotham Central.

The Asylum wasn't as bad as many made it out to be, even myself, but it was a bit boring.

Gotham City however, now that was a show I didn't want to miss.

Better yet, I had front row seats.

**Let the show begin.**

* * *

**I looked over the notepad Harleen has given me once more.** It was a list of business and contacts that she said would give me a chance if I tried hard enough, and I had arrived at the fourth place on the list.

Apparently most of the businesses didn't approve of bright green hair in their employees, but whatever, their loss.

This place though, this place had promise.

Hell, I walked in off the street and after an hour of talking, I had an appointment with the Business Manager of the company, however impossible it should have been.

_"Perhaps it's the suit?"_ I wondered to myself, as I looked down at my grey suit. I'd put on the purple waistcoat Harleen had bought for me, and apparently it worked well to boost my image.

For whatever reason, I now was sat inside the Manager's luxurious office, snacking on hand sandwiches with a side of orange juice, waiting for my meeting.

Honestly, I think this life has a lot more luck in it than my others.

Finally after near an hour (At least according to the Mickey Mouse watch I found) I finally heard the office door gently open and strong footsteps sounded around me.

I stood as a wise looking man with dark skin walked into the room, his face framed with laugh lines and a soft smile as he gestured me to sit as he joined me.

I took a seat once again, and he picked up the file of all that I was, and began to browse through the papers that listed all there was to know about Jack Napier.

Finally when he appeared to be satisfied, he turned to me with another smile and crinkling eyes.

"Well, I think we may have a position for you Mr. Napier," He said to me with a smile, holding out his hand to me, a light in his eyes that spoke of potential and perhaps salvation.

**"My name is Lucius Fox, welcome to Wayne Enterprises."**

* * *

**While Harry Napier was getting his affairs in order,** another man was sitting in the shadows of an aged room, staring up at a portrait of a lovely looking couple, their smiles trying their hardest to warm his heart, such was their happiness.

He could only frown, as even years later he couldn't seem to let go, despite all he'd been through.

So much blood and sweat, yet he broke just when seeing their faces.

He almost felt ashamed of himself, as he lowered his gaze from meeting theirs.

Yes, shame, that was what drove him now.

That shame had been why he left Gotham, put himself as far away from their legacy as possible, blotted them out of his mind and memory.

Yet now, he was back… and he felt that same urge once more, the urge that had driven him to travel the world… to train under the League… To do all that he was asked…

He had to do something… Anything, to mean something.

After all they had given for him, for him to sit at home and simply follow in his father's footsteps, while more criminals followed in that cold bastard's footsteps… While more and more innocents died to the cruel touch of crime and hatred.

He had to do something… be something…

He needed to be more than a man, as he alone wouldn't be enough to change Gotham.

As he thought over that, he was almost struck back in shock, as the wide window beside him, the one that framed the entire room with a silver shine, burst inward with a mighty wind, moonlight blasting into the dark room.

Riding with it, was a screeching creature of the night, it's eyes glowing a blinding white in the embrace of night, it's wings spread wide in aggression and rage as it's cries pierced his ears and his very soul.

A devilish bat had ruthlessly invaded a place he had known to be so safe since childhood, the place his mother and father would speak to him, share wisdom and comfort in the dark nights of his youth.

It brought fear into him, a man that had worked for so long to eliminate fear within himself, to be a warrior unlike any other. It might have been fear for only a second, but nonetheless, it was managed.

Looking up at the black bat nestled up on the outer door frame, it's little eyes angry and dreadful in the shadows, he could only think of it as one thing.

It was perfect.

That, **brought a rare smile to Bruce Wayne's face.**


	5. Shamrock Gunshots

**Life 26: Smile for a While**

* * *

**(22nd, December, 1997)**

* * *

**"This is Jack from Wayne Technologies calling for Mr. Queen,"** I said in a gentle way as I twirled the cord of my desk phone, listening as the other company's receptionist made up excuses for not connecting me. Through some miracle of fate, I had been signed on as a sales representative in the Tech branch, my job being that I had to be an annoying, but polite, asshole and call up companies that Wayne Enterprises was interested in partnering with, and trying to set up a deal with them before my fellow salesman's could.

I had never been a salesman before, so I never knew how competitive the business was, so most days I was calling fifty to sixty companies a day, trying to convince them to sign onto the Wayne Enterprises' sales contracts. Most times I was calling up resources to try and get more parts for the Technology Department, which now was demanding an insane amount of parts and components.

I won't try and understand why the branch was needing almost fifty thousand dollars a month for pure components, but at least it was benefiting me.

The company was ramping up recently with new tech and licenses, as Mr. Fox was drowning us in new devices on the daily, and that meant jobs and money to be made.

A self-propelling grappling system? Incredible, at least to a guy that hadn't seen that kind of technology anywhere near the 1990's, let alone working technology!

The test footage was amazing to watch, and now the Department was drafting up all sorts of designs, and we were signing up partners all over the world to get funding and contacts for a new expansion in Star City… except for the biggest partner that we needed to do that.

Oliver Queen, the CEO of Queen Industries, was hindering the company's plans for some reason, and as Star City's primary developer of technology, they were the only contact we had in Star City… If only Queen would pick up his damn phone…

But no, I was stuck here, in my cubicle, calling for a man that wanted nothing to do with us, as Mr. Fox said that whoever sold the deal with Queen would be promoted to Senior Salesman.

_"I want that office damn it, and fuck Queen for keeping it out of my hands."_

"I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Queen isn't accepting calls at this point, would you like to make an appointment?" Queen's receptionist asked me in this patronizing way, making me even more mad, since I had made three appointments already, and this was just getting more and more ridiculous. but I needed this job.

So, I said the same thing I had the last three times.

**"Yes, that would be lovely."**

* * *

**"Hey Jack, still calling after Queen?"** The closest thing I had to a friend in this office asked me. I think the guy's name was Philip, or something.

I couldn't really remember, though I should.

I sighed into my coffee, my shoulders slumping in a way entirely new to me as my exhaustion finally sunk in.

"Yeah…"

"I'm telling you it's pointless. Everyone in the office has been calling them up, and it's not going to happen. Fox says it's something to do with Wayne and Queen personally, something about a dame? I don't care to know, but I know us bugging the guy isn't going to do a thing, you know?" Phil, or whatever his name was, said to me in a way that oddly didn't anger me in the slightest, and instead calmed my nerves.

Okay, so perhaps I'm not shit at my job, but that meant it was something on the corporate level…

No matter the cause, I swear I will get that guy to sign on with us, or I'll make him do it myself.

Or, you know, write a strongly worded letter.

**I still need this job.**

* * *

**While at one point in my existence,** I was awful at the precise art of Potion Making, I blame Snape for that, I got a lot better.

When rumors started in the office that Mr. Fox was creating a delegation of representatives to travel to Star City and attempt to fix the relations between Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries, and one of them, assuming all goes well, would be selected as Wayne's official Liaison with Queen Industries.

As soon as the news dropped, I started brewing Felix Felicis, which conveniently didn't require magic to brew, allowing me to brew it in the solitude of my crappy apartment.

It did require extremely difficult to find magical ingredients, which I frankly didn't have, but this wasn't the first time I had to substitute ingredients, and I knew I could make it work.

Thankfully, it was pretty easy to pretend to be a normal person.

My landlord didn't even comment on the bubbling sounds from my apartment, but I did catch him muttering something about druggies? Whatever the reason, the privacy was appreciated.

When the rumors weren't proven true, I was a bit worried that they weren't… and that I had wasted months brewing a potion I didn't need… but then, it happened.

Mr. Fox himself announced that there was to be an inspection of the Tech Branch, and that he would personally be meeting with the top representatives.

I drank that foul Concoction the night before, and I just waited in my seat, hoping that my makeshift luck would prove true, and that I would get the call.

And get it I did.

"Jack, could you please come to my office? We have much to discuss."

**Liquid luck, it never does fail.**

* * *

**I hate Star City.**

It was officially worse than Gotham. At least in Gotham I could get robbed and shot in an alleyway, at least some privacy there, but no… Star City had to top Gotham in everything, didn't it?

Now, I'm bleeding out in a nightclub, the doors locked tighter than Fort Knox and me, staining my suit horribly with plenty of sticky blood.

It all started with my fellow salesmen and I driving into Star City for our first night, enjoying the sights as Phil said, and enjoying all the city had before we had to get to work.

We somehow ended up at this nightclub in the Glades, drunk off our asses, having the time of our lives… Until the latter part of the night. This big guy got handsy with some blonde that looked way too tough to be messed with, and he got kicked out, and then I passed out.

I woke up in the backroom of the club, that same blonde caring for me, then running off.

So there I was, hangover of a lifetime, stumbling through this nightclub and trying to find my caretaker and find some answer about what happened last night, when I saw that bastard from last night with a gun pointed at the lady.

Don't ask me why, but I then found myself charging the guy, maybe in an attempt to save her, and got a bullet to the gut.

The guy panicked, and I kid you not, jumped out the window with the mad woman running after him.

So, that's how I ended up bleeding out in a nightclub, in a city I knew as well as Jack's childhood.

I would have liked to last a year in this life, which is my goal in each one,** but at least I-**

* * *

**"You're awake, welcome back to the land of the living,"** A kind voice addressed me as I woke up on something soft.

My biggest question was the fact that I woke up, as my last memory was bleeding out on a steel floor, which raised all sorts of questions.

"Now Mr. Napier, you gave us quite a fright if I may say." A woman, seemingly a doctor, said as she walked up to my bedside, a clipboard in hand. I felt more than saw the heavy bandages that must have been wrapped around my side, as I felt a pain worse than Hellfire where I had been shot.

"I'm not dead?" I asked her, honestly preferring that to being shot by a two-bit thug and forced into a hospital. This was pathetic.

**You're telling me**

I jumped, and my gut screamed at me in agonizing pain, my very soul in pain.

My concern was more for the fact that I'm hearing voices… how wonderful.

"Calm down Mr. Napier, you are final. Your vitals are pretty good though, I would imagine you could be out of here by the end of the week." The doctor said to my surprise, as I didn't think that was natural. I mean, I was human this time around, and that just didn't seem real to me.

Jack Napier was human… right?

"Though I bet you can't wait to get out, right? All your friends have been coming by to see you, they'll be happy to hear you're awake." She said happily with a smile, as I could only wonder what she was even talking about.

I don't have friends, at least, I didn't think I did, but regardless I agreed to have visitors…

Whoever they are.

I admit, it wasn't surprising to see the blonde woman I'd saved walk in, it only made sense.

She seemed almost embarrassed as she walked in, like it was awkward that I saved her life.

What was this woman's deal?

"Sorry about that." She said after a few boring moments where I tried to figure out what she wanted just by looking at her. I will admit, I'm no Sherlock Holmes.

"For taking me to the hospital, or the gunshot?" I asked with a pained grin for affect. I had a feeling she was sorry for something, but I couldn't imagine what.

"For you having to save me," She said with a hint of a blush on her face, her eyes escaping from mine. "Normally I can handle thugs like him, but you kind of surprised me."

I scoffed, that man was waiting for an excuse to pull the trigger, better I get shot than her.

"Well, isn't a surprise better than you being on this bed rather than me?" I argued, a small smile flashing on her face before she looked at me for the first time, burning away the awkwardness of me literally risking my life to save hers.

"I guess. Mind telling me my savior's name?" She said with sarcasm as thick as molasses. I just rolled my eyes, as I saw how this was going to go. This woman is probably going to be the death of me, but I'm asking for it most days.

"Jack Napier, but I go by Harry."

Her eyes flickered then, as a smile spread on her face, and she even laughed as I just got confused all over again.

**"You're the guy who's been calling Ollie?"**

* * *

**And that's how I met Dinah Lance,** and found myself staying at her night club.

I haven't found out why, but Phil and the rest of the delegation are just gone. I went back to our hotel, and the staff hadn't seen any of them in days… And Phil had the hotel key…

So, I was stuck in Star City, on my own, and with no place to stay.

Fortunately, Ms. Lance wanted to pay me back for saving her (Though she insisted she didn't need help), and was letting me stay in her club until I was done in the city.

That's when I told her why I was here, to get Oliver Queen to get over whatever grudge he had against my boss and sign onto the trade deal.

She wished me luck.

Apparently Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen had been friends once, their fathers being business partners, and the two becoming friends with the daughter of another company head. Dinah didn't know much, but something happened to the daughter and it ruined any friendship that the two had ever since.

She told me that Oliver was stubborn, even more than Bruce Wayne (or so she claimed), and that I was welcome to try and convince him.

I just asked her to get me in the office, I could do the rest.

I had no idea what 'the rest' was, but I figured I could just wing it from there.

I have been winging it for the past year, I am not ashamed to admit that.

But if I can convince Harrison Wells to sign on, **I'm sure I can convince Oliver Queen.**

* * *

**"Any news about the Star City problem Lucius?"** Bruce Wayne, the famous heir to the Wayne family, asked in a exhausted tone as he sank into his chair, his recent headaches only adding to his issues.

Wayne Enterprises had been doing amazingly lately, with Bruce's ideas and Lucius' ingenious sense of business, the two had turned around the company, saving it from the brink of bankruptcy… until the latest scandal.

Wayne Tech had sent salesmen to Star City in an attempt to finally get the deal with Queen Industries, and all but one of them had been sent back to Gotham in body bags… except for one.

One of the salesmen was unaccounted for, a young man named Jack Napier, a recent hire, was missing.

The airport security had confirmed that he got to Star City, but where he went after that was a total mystery.

_"God… all my troubles seem to lead back to Oliver… If only Lena…"_ Bruce thought to himself, only to rip himself from his thoughts, they were no good to him now, no good to anyone.

The Gotham Gazette was running rumors about the whole debacle, and now there was calls for Wayne Enterprises to stop 'lying' and tell them all what 'really' happened.

Bruce didn't know what to do, since he hadn't signed off on this whole thing, and it had been Lucius' decision, but he couldn't tell the public that, as then people would think he was lazy and there would be calls for Lucius to be fired.

The man was a dear friend of his, and there was no way he'd let that happen… but still he worried.

What happened in Star City, and what was he going to do? Those were the questions running through his head lately.

"Well Bruce, we know he isn't dead, since Glades Memorial doesn't have any recent corpses with green hair, so-"

"His body was dumped, or he's alive." Bruce finished off the thought, knowing well enough what criminals were like, more than well enough.

"Well, if you'd like me to, I can hold the fort down for a few days. I imagine, that if anyone could find Mr. Napier in the mess that Star City's become, it's you Bruce." Lucius said with a smile, knowing that a little time out of Gotham would do him some good.

Every since he came back, he had barely slept, just submitting design after design for projects that definitely weren't safe to sell… What kind of person could they sell a rocket powered car armed to the wheels with weapons to? Besides the military that is...

As long Bruce was happy, and as long as the company was fine, he'd let Bruce invent.

And he wouldn't ask him what he was doing in the cave under his home…

Lucius knew his business, **and that wasn't it.**

* * *

**I was spending Christmas in a nightclub,** surrounded by boozed up men and women that were entirely too young to be hanging around men like that.

Or like me, but that's just semantics.

Dinah apparently ran this place, which was pretty cool I guess.

Verdant was the name, and why did everything in this city have to be green?

I swear I see it everywhere, and it feels like I'm in a grime covered Ireland, with less football and more gunshots.

I wanted to go back to my grimy cesspool of crime, the one I was familiar with at least, but I refuse to go back to Gotham empty handed.

I was determined to get Queen to sign on, and I don't quit until I succeed, though that mentality usually ends with my death, it's usually worth doing.

So I was stuck being Dinah's bartender since hers ran off, mixing drinks for drunks and girls that had really, really good fake IDs.

Not my problem, so I didn't pry… what was my problem though, was the creep by the door watching that little redhead dancing on her own.

I had seen that look before, in many eyes before his, and I wasn't letting this slide.

That man was a predator, or I wasn't an immortal weirdo trapped in a green haired freak.

But I couldn't beat the guy just because he's got fuck-me eyes.

I've made that mistake before, didn't end well.

_"Poor, poor Creevey…"_

So, I made another little girl a drink, wrote a note to call the local school to speak with their counselors, and kept my eyes on the creep…

Where the hell is he, and where did Little Red run off to?

Letting my Saving People Thing get the better of me once again, I grabbed the baton Dinah kept under the counter and ran out the side door.

How fast can a drunk guy be?

Not very fast evidently, as I saw the girl running like a lightning bolt down the alley, the creep stumbling after her, all the while shouting obscenities like they were the gospel.

"Hey creep!" I called out, trying to let the girl get away, and found the angry boar of a man turning his rage to me.

With a scream that sounded vaguely like a 'What', he charged at me with the force of a drunken train with a beer gut.

Suffice to say, it was pathetic.

Rather than dodge him, I just held the baton at level with my chest, and the idiot ran right into it, causing him to collapse as all the air in his chest was instantly knocked out of him.

His sudden drop actually drew a laugh from me, as I nodded to the redhead who had come to see what stopped her would have been rapist, and made to walk back inside.

Before I could return to the agony of watching young girls drink and dance and creepy men hang out and try to reclaim their youth by taking others, I heard a thump and a footstep, and turned around to face whatever had crept up on me.

To my genuine surprise, a tall man dressed in a green hooded bodysuit, with a fucking bow, might I add, was standing behind me.

I assume he jumped from the rooftops, and I haven't a clue how he got here, but Star City just kept confusing me.

I've gotten over it, and some shifty archer appeared out of nowhere isn't the weird thing I've seen in my life, even counting just this one.

However, I had to ask, I just had to… It was one of those golden opportunities.

"Who are you supposed to be, Robin Hood?"

He almost looked triggered then, the hairs on his goatee shaking for a bit before a grin spread on his face, his eyes still angry. I imagine that this guy, whoever he was, likely got that a lot.

That's why I had to, I'm sure he'll understand.

He didn't appreciate it though.

**"And they say my jokes are bad..."**

* * *

**Once again,** this isn't a particular part of the DC Universe. I'm taking bits and pieces from here or there, so expect some comics elements, some bits of the movies, some parts from the CW, and maybe even a little bit of the Animated cartoons. I'm just going with what feels right. **Hope you all enjoyed. **


	6. Guilt

**Life 26: Smile for a While**

* * *

**"I have heard that damn joke more times than I can count."** The emerald archer said in an exhausted tone as he leaned against the alley wall, his eyes looking at me with just a touch of humor. "And who are you supposed to be?"

I was already prepared for that of course, as I showed him.

"A salesman." I said as simply as possible, since I can't exactly tell people I'm a sort-of immortal entity that's had over a thousand years of being an idiot and who can't help but save beautiful women.

It's a tragic flaw of mine, I know.

"Do salesmen usually beat up drunks?" He asked me, an eyebrow raised as he seemed to see me for the first time. I had a real feeling that this guy was absent minded as hell, yet that he could kill me in seconds.

I'm still going to make him into a joke, that's just who I was.

"Do archers usually wear leather?" I asked in the same manner, my eyebrow managing to beat his in a contest of strength, laying on the sarcasm like a super power.

"Fair point…" He said before changing the subject with the subtlety of a jackhammer. "I wanted to thank you, Dinah is a good friend of mine."

He held his hand out here, and I gladly shook it, wondering why this guy wore a mask, yet had a easily recognizable goatee.

Dinah did me one better than getting me into the man's office, she brought him to me…

"Anything for a pretty lady, and her friends. Say, do you know her other friend, Oliver Queen?" I asked nonchalantly, a grin sneaking onto my face, even more so when I saw his face pale so dramatically.

He seemed to cough up his lungs here, as he tried to cover himself with some excuse.

He didn't disappoint.

"Um, I don't think I've met him. Dinah's kind of my only friend and I don't see her often… " He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at mine as the man reeked of awkward fear.

This guy was fun to fuck with, of that I was sure.

"Well, it was nice to meet you arrow guy, but I'm kind of busy with something." I said lightly, setting the trap for him.

"Oh, anything I can help with, citizen?" He asked me with this bravado in his voice to hide the obvious fear flowing off him.

The trap's been sprung, and oh so beautifully too.

"Well, unless you can get Oliver Queen to pick up his damn phone, than I don't know how you can help me…" I asked him with the largest grin I could make, stepping back into the club, leaving the guy in the alley to wonder whether I really knew his secret.

It's amazing that no one's figured it out yet.

Might as well not spoil the surprise for everyone else.

**There's no fun in that.**

* * *

**I got the call less than two hours later,** it seems I left an impression on him.

Even better news, I can blackmail him now!

_"THAT OFFICE WILL BE MINE!"_

"Hello, this is Verdant, Jack speaking, how can I help you?" I said in my polite voice, the one I had learned to use when I picked up the phone since Dinah gave me free drinks when I was nice to people.

It was a pretty good deal to be honest, and scotch and peanuts fully made up for annoying phone calls.

"This is Jack right? Jack Napier of Wayne Technologies?" The man himself, CEO by day and Green Arrow by night, Oliver Queen asked me. I knew he knew exactly who he was talking to, but I guess he had to keep up appearances.

How droll, especially after I watched news show after news show talk about him, both sides of him.

"Nice to finally speak with you Mr. Queen, I've been trying to reach you for longer than I could tolerate, but I guess we've both been a bit busy." I said to him in a frustrated tone, but putting extra emphasis on busy. If he didn't figure out that I figured him out, then Queen definitely wasn't smart enough to run his company.

"That's true enough Mr. Napier. I've heard a lot about you, and I feel it's high time to meet, face to face." He said in what he probably thought was a welcoming, warm voice. He sounded mad as hell, as he should be.

"What time and place Mr. Queen? I mean, I heard you were a bit GREEN lately. Was it the flu?" I asked casually of him, my words taking on a sharp point. I wasn't letting up on him, at all.

I just heard him sigh as heavily as possible, as I practically heard his anguish.

His pain was delicious, like fine wine.

"Just… just meet me at my office, tomorrow afternoon. Okay?" He asked of me, all the emotion drained from his voice.

_"Mission accomplished."_

"Sure can do, Ollie." I said with a wicked grin so wide that I imagine that astronauts could see my delight.

And with that, I hung up on him.

Me, little ol' Harry Napier, junior sales representative for Wayne Technologies, hung up on one of the richest and most powerful men in the world.

God this was like crack… The power high, the feeling of getting the last word in.

**I need that fucking office.**

* * *

**"Jack Napier, I'm here to see Mr. Queen."** I said in the most smug voice I possibly could as I gave a death glare of the highest caliber at Queen's receptionist. This was the lazy bitch that kept making excuses not to connect my phone calls!

When I took over the world, Felicia Snoak, or whatever her name was, would be the first to feel my righteous wrath!

Or something more carnal, she wasn't that bad looking after all.

Feeling such joy at her uncomfortable shuffling, she pointed at a set of emerald oak doors, which made me wonder how more people didn't figure out Queen's secret identity.

Pulling the doors open, I strode inside with the grace and pride of a lion… only to freeze on the spot, fear struck into my heart in an instant.

This meeting just got a lot more important.

"Ah, my missing salesman. Have a seat, we were just discussing you." A strong voice greeted me as I stepped into Queen's office, on that belonged to a muscular man with immaculate black hair.

Seated at the large desk covering the city skyline was Queen, and standing before me was my boss.

**Bruce Wayne had come to Star City.**

* * *

**(Twelve hours previously…)**

* * *

**Bruce Wayne was bored,** though he would never admit that to anything.

The plane had been delayed because some madman with robotic wings and a flamethrower had tried to hold up the airport, and required Swat to deal with him.

The entire airway had been locked down in the event of him boarding a plane, and the entire plane had been shut down.

While he would have jumped at the chance to stop the man, despite the odds, Bruce Wayne was supposed to be weak and afraid, so Bruce had to be.

Sometimes, he hated the Wayne name and all it entailed.

Eyes on him everywhere he went, a reputation he never wanted, and expectations he could never meet.

It was into his second hour of the plane being delayed, that he actually got a distraction of this hell.

He got a phone call from a person he never expected to hear from again, nor did he expect what he would hear.

Incoming Call: Canary

No matter the past, or what mistakes he'd made, there was no way he was passing this call up, and he didn't .

"Dinah?" He asked, his mind racing about what could have caused Dinah Lance, a woman he hadn't seen nor talked to in years to call him.

Then it came to him.

"Bruce? Ollie's in trouble." Dinah said as quickly as possible, not even taking a breath, yet Bruce instantly knew what this was about.

He knew from the moment he made his decision, that no matter what happened in Star City, that it was time to end this.

His focus faded from Dinah's words, and to his memories.

He remembered a blood stained arrow and an empty room.

A casket buried, and a hungry fire.

Hatred and a promise.

Bruce knew what he had to do.

Their hatchet was being buried, whether Oliver wanted it or not.

He wanted his best friend back, **no matter the cost.**

* * *

**"Do you think we'll always be friends?"** A young blonde boy asked of his friends, the three lounging in the garden of a beautiful home, the beauty only eclipsed by the flowers surrounding them.

"I hope so." The boy's best friend, a tall boy with black hair and soulful blue eyes, said with hope and happiness in his gaze.

A laugh then came from their friend, a thin girl with striking ginger hair, her eyes darting between the boys with joy.

"I think so, after all, you both like me don't you?" She asked them, causing both boys to blush a bright shade of scarlet, both trying to casually hide their faces.

They were at a loss for words, both boys united in something for once.

"I'm just joking!" The girl exclaimed loudly, laughing at their misfortune. "You two are so dumb."

**"Real funny Lena."**

* * *

**Bruce didn't say a word to anyone.**

His trip through the city was silent, his attention on only the bright sign on the tallest tower in Star City.

The word Queen lit up like a beacon in the sky, beaming down on him like a judgmental angel, it's light almost blinding as it reminded him of the void that had grown between him and the man he once called friend.

He had made a mistake keeping away, his isolation his biggest one.

He'd thought that traveling was the perfect escape, that if he left behind all he knew, that it would lessen the pain.

He couldn't be reminded if there was nothing to remind him, after all.

Yet he always felt the lure, the almost cosmic force that kept pulling him back to the past, to the part of his life that he had tried so hard to escape from.

But he should have listened to Alfred… everything you run from will always catch up with you.

He was so alone now… If only he hadn't left… maybe he'd still be here…

But he couldn't keep thinking on everyone he had lost, and focus on getting back the only friend he had left.

He passed the woman that was Oliver's employee, and walked right into Oliver's office, the past be damned.

**The Green Arrow himself was waiting.**

* * *

**"Bruce… it's been a while."** Was all Oliver Queen could say when faced with his oldest friend, his first friend, and the one he had left behind so many years ago.

"It has Oliver, it's been too long." Bruce said the most casually as he could, sitting in the chair across from Oliver, his hands coming together as he tried to meet Oliver's eyes.

He failed, his eyes averted.

"What… what are you doing here Bruce?" Oliver asked, his voice almost quivering as he thought the worst of his old friend, revenge coming to mind easily.

Oliver hadn't left Gotham on the best terms, and Bruce knew that all too well.

"It's time Ollie, we've both been hating each other for too long. I hurt you, and you hurt me. Neither of us meant to, but it happened. It's time for us to get over it." Bruce said in a stern voice, his eyes locking onto Oliver's confused orbs, the silence between their words chilling the room.

However, confusion quickly led to anger the likes Bruce had never seen before.

"Meant to? You ruined my life Bruce!" Oliver screamed over his desk, his fists grabbing hold of Bruce and shaking him, his rage palpable in the orderly room.

Bruce just nodded.

He expected this, and just looked his old friend in the eyes.

"You going to shoot me again Oliver? You might want to grab your quiver." Bruce said to him, his voice taking on a dark quality formed by fire and pain, the words telling of how broken he truly was.

Oliver froze, his hands flying to his desk, his eyes growing fearful. His throat getting drier than the Sahara.

"You… you know?"

"Of course I know Ollie, I knew from the moment I saw Green Arrow on the news. I will always recognize the bow that almost killed me." Bruce said in the most aggressive way possible, but his eyes betraying him.

Oliver was almost sure that Bruce was going to strike him, only for a strange smile to grace his face.

**"But I forgive you."**

* * *

**(In the Present)**

* * *

**"Mister Wayne, why do you have a black eye?"** I asked of my boss, only now noticing how he winced every time he blinked. I imagine the man was surprised that I asked after his injury rather than why he was here, but that was the man I was.

I don't do normal.

Mr. Wayne took it in stride though, a smile shooting onto his face.

"I was told you were observant, but I'm impressed. I suppose that I can tell you. My old friend and I were just discussing the trade deal, and were even considering a merger. I commend you on your dedication though, it was very impressive Jack." Mr. Wayne said with a grin, his hands crossed behind him as he turned towards Queen for a second before looking at me strangely.

"Unfortunately, I must inform you that your fellow delegates ran afoul of some trouble, and I'm left short five salesmen. As well, I'm in need of a new Senior Salesman, and due to the loss of Philip, I need a new Sales Branch Manager." Mr. Wayne said in a sad tone, though I noticed his eyes slink to mine, his pitch obvious.

_"He couldn't mean…"_

"I was considering you as his replacement. Are you interested Jack?"

I swear my brain stopped for a second, as I couldn't believe how easy this all seemed. I'm been working for less than a year, and the CEO offers me a position running the entire Sales Branch?

_"Wait… this is a bribe."_

"I would be honored sir, but there's more to this isn't there?" I asked him, my eyes searching his, and I found what I was looking for.

Wayne was trying to keep me quiet.

"Very observant, aren't you Jack?" He said with a laugh, Queen's face stock still, his silence illuminating the mood of the room. In a instant however, my boss went serious and his eyes locked onto me, an angry glare burning me in my seat.

"I'm told you learned a very important secret Mr. Napier. I need you to forget it." Mr. Wayne almost growled at me, stepping closer to me as he laid a hand on my shoulder, and almost broke my fucking shoulder.

"I'm told you want a promotion Jack, and you'll get it, but you won't say a word to anyone about my friend Oliver, will you Jack?"

My boss is fucking terrifying, I will freely admit that, and I've fought against literal monsters.

He beats every single one of them, including the Dementors…

Yeah, I want an office, not another hospital stay.

Easy choice.

"I'll take the job." I said as quickly as possible, desperate to get him him to let my poor shoulder go before he crushes my bones into dust.

"Smart man, despite what your ponytail says."

I don't know what hurts more, my fucking shoulder, or his insult.

**I just want an office…**

* * *

**I settled in pretty well.**

I got the biggest office in the entire department, and I was frankly surprised.

Not only an office, but a private lounge as well, with a stocked fridge as well.

If that wasn't enough, I had my own receptionist now, a nice girl named Carrie that I swear was blind going by the size of her glasses.

Regardless, the girl did her job well and she followed my only order well.

Never connect anyone to me, and make excuses.

I hold grudges, even on innocent, albeit rival, salesmen.

However, it wasn't all fun and games here, as I was put in charge of hiring five new Salesmen, and choosing an employee to take over as Senior Salesman.

I don't know any of my employees, or their names.

But I wasn't focused on that, or anyone.

In celebration for achieving my second life goal, I got drunk on the complimentary wine that Mr. Wayne so kindly gave me in exchange for my silence, only for Carrie to buzz my phone.

"Carrie, what?!" I slurred in a way that honestly embarrassed me when I remembered all of this mess later, and was pretty sure I remembered her name right.

"I'm sorry sir, I know you wanted me to not direct anything but important calls to you, but this woman threatened to kill me if I didn't connect her…" Carrie said in the most frightened way I had ever heard a woman speak.

However, I had a question, only I forgot to say it aloud.

_"Did I say important calls?"_

Despite my orders, Carrie still connected my phone to the caller, and I swear I'm still having trouble hearing after the following verbal tirade.

"ARE YOU AN IDIOT?! YOU GOT SHOT, AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO CALL ME! THE NEWS SAID YOU WERE MISSING! I WAS WORRIED YOU WERE DEAD! HOW DARE YOU! HARRY I SWEAR TO GOD YOU BETTER VISIT ME!"

Ah, the dulcet tones of Harleen, how I didn't miss them, but I should have seen this coming ever since that thug shot me.

"Harley, honey, I'm hello so drunk." I responded to her overwhelming anger, only to make her even more infuriated.

I passed out with her screaming out the many ways she would kill me.

I may have been one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-eight years old, but I'm still a lightweight.

I'm not looking forward to meeting her with a hangover, but I knew I would.

Otherwise she'd kill me, violently.

I wanted more than a day in my new office, so I can't die just yet, especially by the hands of the woman I kind of liked too.

So I'd face her wrath, and try to apologize.

Not the first time I've been in this situation, but it never gets easier.

And most of the time, I can't run from this.

Last time I tried, it ended with way too much death.

So much that I didn't want to remember.

**The alcohol makes it all go away... **

* * *

**_"You have to realize who you are, Harry."_**

_"I don't know if I can. The man they think I am, the one they want me to be, I'm not him."_

_"Then don't be, but you are so much more than you think you are. You're a hero, and a greater man than any I've ever met."_

_"I don't want to be a hero, I just want to go home."_

_"We could… How about this, okay? I'm going to sound crazy, but what if, when this is all over, we run away? Just you and me, we'll leave all those bigots behind, even Ron."_

**_"That sounds wonderful."_**


	7. Year Zero

**Life 26: Smile for a While**

* * *

**(5th, January, 1998)**

* * *

**"This is Carrie, thank you for calling Wayne Technologies,"** The most recent intern to Wayne Tech said politely as she answered the phone, another caller that wanted to talk to her boss, who was doing whatever it was he did in his office, since it wasn't taking calls.

"No, Mister Napier is currently busy. He will be sure to get back to you." She assured the rude woman as she hung up, taking a deep breath as she did.

Carrie Kelly, a recent graduate from Burnley Academy, had always had a fascination with the Wayne family.

Such a prestigious and famous family, one responsible for the creation of Gotham City itself, the ones that poured the blood into Gotham's veins, nearly wiped out in a single night by a random thug.

It was nightmarishly cruel, that a couple that had dedicated their lives to bettering their city and it's people, was to be killed by one of the people that they had tried so hard to help.

Their tragedy was etched forever into Gotham's history, yet their legacy had lived on.

Their only son, Bruce Wayne, had survived and had carried on in his parents' footsteps, bringing their company and dreams to life on the global scale.

She had always felt bad for the man, never understanding how he could be so willing to help this city when it had taken everything from him, and that desire had been what convinced her to join Wayne Enterprises, however she could.

She got stuck as a receptionist in the Technology Branch… far from her idol.

However, the job paid well and had other… advantages.

"Hey Carrie, here are the forms for Jack, they're straight from Mr. Fox himself." A young man dressed in the grey and black uniforms of the companies' junior salesmen said as he stepped to the desk, a folder of papers grasped in his hands.

"Thanks Jimmy." She said with a smile, her eyes trailing down his form in ways that would be way too inappropriate for the workplace. He was a bit shy, he would even admit it, and her eyes were a bit lecherous and scary, but he worked up his courage.

"So Carrie, some of the guys and I were going down to the Iceberg Lounge for the night, I wanted to know if you were interested in joining us?" He asked her with a cough, his eyes focusing on anything but on hers.

Carrie blinked then, as she realized little Jimmy Corrigan was actually asking her out. The most shy guy in the office… asking her out.

This was the moment she had been waiting for!

"Sure Jimmy, I just have to check with-" She tried to say, her excitement growing with each second, only for the door next to her desk to fly open, and someone to step through.

The room grew silent as their boss walked out, an orange suit on his frame and an unshaven face atop it.

"You're all going to the Iceberg Lounge? Where was my invite?" Jack Napier, the most erratic man in Gotham asked them, a wild smile on his face.

Carrie and Jimmy both gulped.

**There went their moment…**

* * *

**I've been blacking out.**

It doesn't happen every night, but it does most nights.

I'll go to bed for the night, and find myself doing who knows what the next afternoon, in who knows where.

I've not slept in weeks as a result, as at least I've been able to keep track of where I've been and what I'm doing… but even I know I can't keep doing that.

I didn't really consider that I would be having trouble like this when I got this job, since a desk job is one of the most boring jobs I could have chosen.

It's an olympian struggle just to stay awake most days.

My memory's been worse lately than I ever remembered it being, but all of this just kept reminding me of a life lived once before… of New York and free skies… of the damn black suit that almost ended that life… but this was different.

Rather than flashes of brutality and carnage, I didn't have anything to tell me what I've been doing, besides a blood soaked playing card.

I had an idea of what this all meant, but I didn't want to entertain the thought.

I didn't tell Harleen, as even though we had become friends and perhaps more with time, she was still bound by her job to inform them if I was going crazy again, since I was still technically outpatient for the Asylum.

I wasn't going back there, even if I was going crazy… but I'm sure it's nothing.

I just…

I need a distraction, and my employees gave me the perfect one.

A night on the town?

_**"Sounds great."**_

* * *

**If I had been a clueless overworked boss,** I would have been in the dark to the crime ridden cesspool of entertainment that I had walked into.

I had invited myself into my employee's night of fun, mostly because it was a convenient distraction, but also because I was curious.

A few lives ago, I had been the mastermind of crime, overseeing the criminal underworld and it's operations. I had controlled every thief, thug, and assassin.

I had been the sly ruler of the world, hidden in the shadows.

In this world, I was a poor Sales Branch Manager who spent most of his money on suits.

I was craving for action, despite the fact that I was shot less than a month ago.

I was bored.

The Iceberg Lounge was my safest way back into the fast lane, being a sophisticated route into the criminal world, and definitely the cleanest.

Letting my employees enjoy themselves without my corruptive influence, I instead made my way to the bar, and ensured my eyes didn't linger on the armed guards that were clearly blocking the way into the club's private lounge.

Also known as the place I needed to go to.

And I knew the way in, or at least, one way in.

"Hey mister, how does a fella get a dance?" I asked the bartender, my voice putting on a rough brusque tone, my old acting lessons coming back to me as I went along.

The bartender just smiled as he pointed to a side room, one noticeably less guarded, but I still caught sight of some guards from the open door.

I nodded and went off, my drink in my hand as I walked into the side room, beautiful women streaming in and out of the room. Several closed off rooms met my gaze, all no doubt leading into private rooms.

I approached some random blonde and spouted some nonsense about wanting a dance, and was rewarded with the knowledge that there would be a guard there as well. I hid my smirk.

Her and I walked into the private room, the guard reading a magazine in the corner, obviously disregarding me as a threat, which suited my needs perfectly.

The woman, who looked surprisingly like my last life's daughter, tried her hardest to be seductive, but I stopped her flat.

"Sit down sweetheart." I said with a smile, leaving my wallet on the plush chair as I stood up.

She looked befuddled as she took my seat, and I straightened my suit lapels.

I then stretched my back, as I pulled one of my shoes off, my scarlet socks contrasting against the silver carpeting.

I then pelted it into the face of the bouncer, my metal tipped loafer impacting with his skull with a loud thunk.

The man dropped like a rock, his body slumping back against the bench he had been on, a slight dent now in his face in an almost comical way.

Ignoring the obviously scared girl that had been dancing for me, I began to strip the bouncer of his uniform, covering my suit with his.

I made sure to tie my hair up under the man's hat, and ensured his pistol was on safety as I tucked it into my waistband.

My disguise finalized, I gave the girl a charming smile, leaving her and the man behind, my drink now left to her.

I had a meeting with the owner, **whether he wanted to meet me or not.**

* * *

**I smiled as the dumb thugs let me pass through the club checkpoint without pause,** my smile widening as I saw an elaborate door on the far side of the private lounge.

Ignoring the dancers and drugs blatantly being used and abused all across the club floor, my smile only grew stronger as I forced my way right into the office, a desk facing me along with the club owner.

He didn't look pleased at the interruption, nor at me as I pulled my stolen cap off and sat across from him.

"Oswald Cobblepot, how good to meet you!" I said as politely as possible, my grin likely stretching across my cheeks. I crossed my arms, my feet flying to his desk edge in what I hoped would be an extremely annoying manner..

My hopes were achieved.

"Who the bloody hell are you?!" Cobblepot screeched, his hands flying forward to what was probably a panic button. Before he could press it, he found, to his surprise, my stolen pistol pressing against his skull.

"My name's Jack Napier, I have an office too, and I know what a panic button is." I said with a grin, letting him hear as I pulled back the hammer of the pistol, a satisfying click echoing in the room. Cobblepot began to sweat. "Now sit back down Mr. Cobblepot, we've got business to discuss."

"W-what is this about? You're a cop, aren't you!" Cobblepot yelled in anger, his words trying to hide the nervous sweat that had come on to him. My smile only widened, as I kept my gun trained on him, my foot kicking out the bottom of his desk.

A Tommy gun clattered to the ground below it, a Tommy gun I then kicked away from the desk, my aim never wavering from Cobblepot's face.

"So, Oswald, can I call you Oswald? So Oswaldo, I hear you know where I can find a certain someone that I want to speak with. Well, more than you, of course." I asked politely, only to lunge forward and grab Cobblepot by the throat, lifting him up as I blindly fired the pistol behind me three times.

I was pleasantly surprised to see my marksman skills were still razor sharp, as the three bodyguards Cobblepot had hired all dropped dead behind me, their assault rifles now littering the office floor.

With his thugs taken care of, I carried Cobblepot over his desk, throwing his body towards the skyline window that framed his office, his face now resting uncomfortably against the glass.

"I'll tell ya anything you want, just don't kill me!" Cobblepot squeaked out, his cowardice way too familiar to me, as I pulled his arm free of his pocket.

Micro 9 millimeter handgun, perfect for a holdout weapon, and judging from the mark, could be collapsed into a metal rod like shape.

Ingenious, and now mine as well.

I turned back to him, a smile once again returning to my face, as unbeknownst to me, a green glint appeared in my eyes.

"Look at you, cowering beneath me like a little birdie… Like a tubby, little… Penguin." I mocked, my voice rising as did my tone, but I tried to reign in this feeling… this presence rising up within me, and I think I managed.

I thought wrong of course.

"Where do I find Carmine Falcone?" I asked him, my smile as sharp as a blade, staring at the blatant fear in his eyes, true, undeniable fear.

While I was enjoying the sight, it just had to be ruined.

**I blacked out.**

* * *

**"Boss! Are you okay?!"** An afraid, but loud, voice startled me awake.

I awoke in surprisingly enough, pain, only to find myself in a hospital bed… again.

"_I swear… if I was shot again, in another nightclub…"_

"You were shot." My receptionist, Carrie something, told me as she sat at my bedside, her face wearing an expression of concern.

"_Damn it all!"_

"We tried looking for you at the club, but some madman started shooting up the place and we ran out. The cops searched the place after and found you bleeding out in the bathroom. Did you see who shot you?" She asked me, her eyes falling somewhere on my chest.

I felt rather than saw the gunshot wound on my chest, stiff bandages wrapped around my chest. I figured from the wound that the bullet must have impacted me just around the side of my rib cage… Conveniently missing any major organs and bones, hitting raw muscle and nothing else…

"_I shot myself..."_

**"Nope, hope they find him soon."**

* * *

**"Now then, Mr. Napier will be back soon."** The regional manager, the direct superior to their boss, said on the office floor as they all came in for the morning.

Most of the employees had already heard what happened, Napier getting himself shot while the rest of them were taking shots, but they kept their mouths shut.

"Until then, Jim Corrigan, you're in charge." He said, his gaze focusing on Jimmy Corrigan, who had been playing Half Life on his computer, and was now wide eyed and disbelieving.

"Me, sir?"

"Yes, you Corrigan, you're less likely to burn the place down than the rest of you, now get to it." The regional manager said sharp and briskly, leaving them all to their work, or in Jimmy's case, their games.

**"Okay then…"**

* * *

**(6th, January, 1998)**

* * *

**"Boss, what do ya want for breakfast?"** A thuggish voice woke me up, oh so very different from the high tones of my receptionist, and I felt an oncoming headache setting in.

I blacked out, again.

I had lost my head at the nightclub, and the last thing I remembered was getting home from the hospital and looking at the gun of Cobblepot's… then nothing.

Now I was in a penthouse, surrounded by broken furniture… and covered in blood.

I've woken up in worse states honestly.

"Sullivan's making waffles boss, he'll put a stack aside for ya." The same voice from before said, my head turning to reveal a burly man in a simple blue suit, a fedora atop his head.

"Who are you again?" I asked him, a bad taste in my mouth as I tried to piece together what I had done the night before.

"Sam Bardo sir, I was Carmine's advisor before, you know, so I know all the numbers. Figured you'd need some help too." The man, Sam, said to me with a lazy grin and a shrug of his shoulders.

The man seemed a decent sort, but I didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

Rather than let him know that, I just asked for waffles with chocolate and let him go on his way.

I began a search of the penthouse I found myself in, and found out what I was doing last night.

I broke into the home of the infamous crime boss Carmine Falcone.

I defeated all of his security and forced my way into his penthouse, against all the odds and on my own.

I forced out of him all the names of his confidants and allies.

"_Wait… I became the fucking Godfather…" _I thought to myself, looking at my ridiculous purple suit in wonder before I was struck by a fact even scarier than my new fashion sense. _"Holy shit, I really can do a lot in a night…"_

**"_Oh… Harleen is going to be pissed…"_**

* * *

**(The night before)**

* * *

**"The Metropolis Blur has returned-"**

"Crap."

"Pilot Harold Jordan of Coast City has been caught in-"

"Crap."

"An oil rig in the North Atlantic has sunk below-"

"Crap! Is there nothing on this damn thing besides news?!" An older gentleman in white complained as he searched the channels on his new television for anything worth watching, only to be disappointed. "Is this what they call entertainment these days?!"

"No, I call filling you so full of lead that it's coming out your ears, entertainment." A joyous voice replied in the silence of the penthouse, a stark contrast to the usually formal tones of the man's subordinates.

This man was Carmine Falcone, the Godfather of the Falcone Crime Family, one of two families that had been fighting for control of the city since the beginning of it.

The Falcones and the Maronis, mortal enemies in a never ending war of crime and blood, both destined to destroy Gotham in their struggle for dominance.

Carmine had been nicknamed "The Roman" for his ruthless, fearless, attitude.

He had killed dozens of men and women for just looking at him strangely, and even more for just being in his way.

He had faced swarms of police and thugs all intent on his death without a sliver of fear.

He was seen as the man without fear by many a criminal.

That fearless man felt just a bit of fear in that moment, since his penthouse was better protected than the White House, and someone he didn't know was inside it…

"Who's there?!" He called out, his signature silver Deagle now in hand as he moved through his penthouse, his eyes moving from here to there, scanning for his sudden intruder.

"Oh you know, just someone's who a bit too bored. Like yourself." A rattly, almost sickly voice answered him, the voice bouncing in the large apartment, the origin impossible to determine.

"I'm bored of hearing you! Now, stop hiding!" The King of Mobsters called out, his pistol at his side as he searched even more for the fool that dared break into his home.

"I'm not hiding buddy." The voice said happily, a laugh starting up right behind him, the sound of it sick and twisted like a perverted lullaby.

There in his seat, was a tall man dressed in violet, a fedora fallen over his eyes, and a gun in his hand.

Carmine's eyes were repulsed though, as the man's skin was a startling white, almost like dried paint, and his lips were a dark shade of red, almost like dried blood, the color dripping down his face in droplets.

It was his eyes though, that scared Carmine the most, even ignoring the blood on the man's suit, obviously from Carmine's own guards.

The man's eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, the emerald orbs within the pale sockets promising death and dismemberment… but not hatefully.

Gleefully.

"Who are you?" Carmine asked in a low voice, his gun still trained on the freak that had taken his seat. Said freak just smiled his awful smile, his pearly white teeth glimmering like that of a shark in moonlight.

"My name's not important pal," The man said with a snicker, his eyes glowing with utter madness as he aimed his gun straight at the gap between Carmine's own eyes, his other hand reaching within his coat.

He pulled out a blood stained playing card, his smile raising it as if he had come to the punchline of some grand joke.

The smile made Carmine sick.

**"But you, you can call me… Joker."**

* * *

**"Sir, I still think this is all a bad idea."** A kind elderly man said to his charge as they stood in a cave of all things. The man was thin, his suit immaculate as was his thin mustache, but his eyes were only of concern.

His charge, the boy he had raised since childhood, now a man, was choosing to risk his life for what he could only assume was for the thrill of it.

Alfred Pennyworth was the concerned man, and he was concerned that his son, all but in blood, was going to get himself killed.

Said son stood before him, strong in the dark of the cave, an armored suit sitting on a model in front of them.

Spiked gauntlets covered it's hands, a belt of well crafted tools at the waist, and a horned cowl atop the head.

White eye lenses peered out from the cowl, the only bit of the man beneath would be the exposed jawline of the mask.

"Alfred… Gotham's getting worse by the day. Bombings, drugs, shootouts, madmen running free… If someone doesn't stop this, the city will go to Hell… and if I don't, I'm just as bad. If I fail Gotham, then Gotham will fail them." Bruce Wayne, the tortured soul that remained of the boy who lost everything that night in Park Row, said in a voice as sturdy as diamond.

His eyes burned with an intensity that Alfred had never seen before, a purpose and drive he had never imagined shining through.

While the sheer idea of his son jumping from rooftops and fighting crime was horrifying to imagine, he had to admit, this was the best he had seen Bruce in years, the usual empty void in the man now replaced by fiery determination.

He just sighed.

"Most men just buy Ferraris…" Alfred argued to him, though he already knew that Bruce was stepping onto a path that he could never force him off of.

"Most men aren't me Alfred." Bruce countered, a rare, true, smile graced his handsome face.

"Too true sir, if only you were...

Brushing his butler's concerns aside, Bruce looked at the computer he had moved down here, his eyes focused on the program running on it.

He had been using it to design equipment, and now he was using it for the most important part of this entire crusade.

A symbol, one to strike fear into the hearts of criminals and let there be no doubt who it belonged to.

The emblem of a Bat stared back at him, it's wings outstretched and pointed, it's ears pointed like horns.

Gotham wasn't ready for him, but he would be ready for them all.

He rested his hand on the screen, his fingers stretched to meet the points of the bat's wings, as he looked to his left.

To a photograph of his parents, taken the day before he lost them, his younger, foolish self smiling innocently. They had stayed at home, playing board games. Ollie and Lena came over not long after his father beat him in Clue.

Then their lives were ended in a murder mystery, their shooter uncaught to this very day.

He would solve the mystery, he would do what the Police couldn't that day, and ensure that never again would a young boy have to lose his parents in a dark alleyway.

Never again would another poor orphan have to live his life.

_**"Mother… Father… I will make you proud...and I will find him."**_


End file.
